Prayers
by onesongofglory
Summary: All he can do is pray.


Sitting in the middle of the empty church, I muttered a short prayer to God. My head was bowed, my eyes closed. Only the occasional creak of a pew was heard. This place was so different when it was empty. And so quiet. I liked it better that way. I'll admit I haven't been to church in months. Hell, it seemed like years. I always vowed to come back someday. I never thought it was be this soon.

_Lord, forgive me for my mistakes._

I always liked coming here. I always felt calm and peaceful whenever I stepped foot into church. It's just lately, I haven't been able to afford a day off so I could come here. But the headlines have been good the past few days. I could afford to take half the day off. But I came here for a different reason than originally planned.

My life isn't what it should be. Things have not been as good as they could. It seemed amazing, and yet unnerving, how one event could change everything. I opened my eyes, but kept the focused on my feet, as I thought about the past week.

Just last Tuesday, one tiny, innocent joke was told to the wrong person. I don't even remember what it was. But it escalated to something so huge within minutes. Someone took it too far and now it was full out war in the lodging house. Friend against friend. Brother against brother.

I tried my best to stay out of it, but me and my big mouth has placed me on the wrong side. And, to make matters worse, other burroughs have gotten involved. Fights broke out everyday, at anytime. Things got so bad, in only one week, that I had start carrying my knife again.

_Lord, I hope I never have to use it._

I sighed, it echoing off the stone walls. I stood, stretched and turned to leave. I stole one last look at the cross hanging on the pulpit. I mumbled one last prayer as I walked out of the lonely old church.

It was slightly less comforting outside. And even though the sun was slipping down into the horizon, it was heating every spare inch of bare skin on my body. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started to walk. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew it was anywhere but the lodging house.

I headed towards Soho, my thoughts drifting every which way. Visions of angry faces flashed in my mind. I shook my head to remove them, but to no avail. I tried to focus my thoughts on the upcoming visit of the president to the city. Boy, what good selling days those are going to be. I wondered if I'll even see him.

It grew darker as I crossed into Soho, my eyes scanning the sights. There wasn't much to see, but it was a nice change of scene. My eyes spotted a small park, and I slowly made my way in that direction.

I did a slow lap around the perimeter. By now, any and all thoughts of the ongoing war were gone. My mind now landed on my future. With little education, I was sure to achieve nothing. Maybe I would marry and have kids. But who knew. I may not even make it that far in my life. All I could do is pray.

_Lord, I give you and trust you with my life._

It was getting chilly, now the son had completely disappeared and the moon was making its way out. I knew I was locked out of the lodging house, if I didn't go home now. I took a deep breath, letting the clear air cleanse my lungs, and made my way back to ground zero as quickly as I could.

Just a few blocks from the house, I was tackled down onto the sidewalk. The moon was hidden behind some clouds, so I couldn't tell who it was. I jumped up quickly, brandishing my knife as I did so. I wasn't going to take any chances. Hopefully, the kid would see it and run. No such luck.

_Lord, forgive me for what I do._

The boy lunged at me again, his small stature heading towards my stomach. I plunged the blade into him, hoping it went into his arm. He let out a gasp of pain and his grip on me loosened. I stepped back, my blade still clutched in my hand. My eyes grew wide as the kid collapsed into the gutter.

The moon crept out again, lighting up the face of the small boy. Tears crept into my eyes as I stared at him. I knelt next to him, pulling him into my lap. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

The boy didn't say anything. He couldn't. Blood flowed from his stomach into the street and onto my pants. He was so young. What have I done? Tears started to fall from my eyes and onto the dying boy.

_Lord, please take him into your arms and end his suffering._

"I'm sorry," I whispered once again, as the boy's body went limp. I laid him down gently and stood up. I muttered one last prayer for Snipeshooter. So young.

_Lord, forgive him of his sins._

_Lord, forgive us our sins._


End file.
